


On Repeat

by allislaughter



Series: The Eagle Has Landed [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Angst, M/M, POV Third Person, Poetry, Present Tense, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:11:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26190154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allislaughter/pseuds/allislaughter
Summary: Hancock wonders how Apollo can listen to the same song on repeat for hours on end. Somehow the conversation turns a bit dark.
Relationships: John Hancock (Fallout)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: The Eagle Has Landed [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901959
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	On Repeat

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains spoilers for [The System is Rigged,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23076688/chapters/55201936) however it takes place on a different timeline, in the post-game setting of user DireDigression's Sole Survivor (dubbed "Soleverse") and therefore reading TSiR prior to this is not necessary.

One of the little quirks Hancock figures out about Apollo is that Apollo’s a fan of repetition. At first it seems like he is just a sucker for routine. But no, Apollo sometimes parrots what someone says back at them. He sometimes does the same hand gesture multiple times before getting bored and moving on. He sometimes puts on a song and then repeats the song nearly a hundred times while working on his writing.

“How do you not get bored of this?” Hancock asks as he crosses the room to sit next to Apollo while the current song plays yet again. Not a bad one, for sure, but not one he’d listen to all day without break.

“Bored of what?” Apollo asks without looking up from his writing. Hancock glances at the words. Looks like Apollo’s trying to find a rhyme for “ad infinitum”. If he remembers that phrase right, then that’s fitting for sure.

“The song?” Hancock grins when Apollo looks up at him, blinking in confusion. “Really? You didn’t notice? It’s been on repeat since I walked out earlier?”

“Oh,” Apollo says. “No, I— I like it. S’just background noise. Not paying attention to it.”

“Mind if I change it?” Hancock asks.

“Yeahhh...” Apollo winces. “I just— I need it playing right now. Can’t concentrate if it’s changed.”

“Fair ‘nough,” Hancock says. He leans back in his chair. “I don’t see how you can sit around listening to the same exact song all day, personally. The wrong song on repeat and I might just go feral just to get away from it.”

“...You’ve said ‘feral’ before,” Apollo notes. He absently jots the word down on the opposite page of his poem. “I’ve heard it from— from other ghouls...”

“...Oh, shit,” Hancock says. “No one’s told you about ferals, huh?”

“...No.”

“Aw hell.” Hancock sits up again. “Okay, you know how ghouls can live a  _ long _ time? Why we have ghouls who are from  _ your _ time?” He waits for an answer, but Apollo only gives a small nod and doodles a sideways 8 underneath the word “feral”. “Well looking like this and living a long time ain’t the only side effects of being a ghoul. Eventually, some of us sooner than others, we uh... go feral. Just... lose ourselves. You ever seen a feral when you were travelling with Nick or Deacon?”

“Um... One time, yeah.” Apollo furrows his brow and presses harder on the page. “So— So what those people were like. That’ll happen to you one day?”

“...Yeah, eventually. Who knows when.”

“But... faster if I play songs on repeat???”

“Oh— Nah.” Hancock chuckles and nudges Apollo. “That’s just a joke. Might annoy me some, but I won’t go feral just because you’re playing an annoying song on repeat. But, hey, I can learn to ignore it if you need it on repeat—”

“But one day you will,” Apollo says. “Go— Go feral.” He glances to the poem again and scribbles down a line. “Is— Is it scary? Are you scared...? Should— Should I be?”

“Hey, don’t you worry about me,” Hancock says. “With any luck, it’ll be maybe a hundred, two hundred years before I go feral.” He chuckles wryly, tries to hide his worries behind a smile. “You’ll be long gone by then, ‘less we find a way to make  _ you _ into a ghoul. You may have survived on ice this long, but you won’t live as long as me—”

Apollo drops his pen and and covers his mouth with his hands, a frantic look in his eyes as he stares at his journal. Hancock winces.

“Hey, no, look,” Hancock says. “I don’t mean to freak you out, but I’m not going to bullshit you about your own mortality. Unless I do something stupid and get myself killed, I’m probably going to live longer than you.”

Apollo chokes on a sob and flops over onto Hancock’s shoulder. Hancock sighs and holds into him.

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “It’s scary, ain’t it? But hey, if you want to stick around for the ride, I’m glad to be here for as long as you’re kicking.”

They sit there like that until the song ends again. Before it can start again, Apollo gets up and turns it off and walks out of the room without another word.

Hancock grimaces and looks at the unfinished poem in the still open journal.

_ How many things will I see in refrain _ _  
_ _ If my time in this world will never wane? _ _  
_ _ Will fire burn the world once more? _ _  
_ _ Will my views on life shake to the core? _ _  
_ _ If my days will go ad infinitum _ _  
_ _ Then when will my feelings end up numb? _

Huh... Wonder what that’s about...

* * *

Hancock doesn’t see Apollo again until in the middle of the night. Apollo’s out of his flamingo shirt, jittery like he can’t sleep, stressed like he had yet another nightmare, and Hancock’s quick to guide him along to their usual place to talk it through.

“This about earlier at all?” Hancock asks. Better to get the important questions out of the way.

“...Yeah,” Apollo says, reaching for Hancock’s hand to hold it. “I... We never— Vault 113’s experiment. Wasn’t— I mean...” He looks up at Hancock. “I’m going to outlive you.”

Hancock’s chest tightens and he squeezes Apollo’s hand. “Excuse me...?”

“The spare-mint,” Apollo says. “It— It— ititit wasn’t— The thing they ‘jected me with made it that— I can’t die.” His voice starts to crack as he speaks. “I— they tried killing me and it didn’t— They put me in a crisper drawer with no oxygen and I still woke up a blillion years later because something woke me up but I was dying and reviving the entire time...” He sniffs, sounding like he’s trying hard not to cry. “Just— On repeat. Like the song. Ad— Ad infinitum. Ad nauseum. Gonna— Gonna live forever and— and you’re not and—”

“Oh,” Hancock says. “Damn.  _ Damn.” _

Apollo nods. “Yeah. I was... ‘fraid to tell you, but... You should know. I like you too much not to tell you.”

_ “Damn!” _ he snarls.  **_“Dammit!”_ ** Of course Vault-Tec wouldn’t do the same experiment twice. He should have known. But this? The fact Apollo will have to see him go feral  _ and _ live past him? Bullshit. No wonder Apollo was so distressed earlier...

Apollo rests his head on Hancock’s shoulder, snapping him from his thoughts. “I— I hope you don’t... feralize? Any time soon. I— If— I like you too much, to see that happen too soon. I can’t even imagine tomorrow, but... If I’m going to be around for a long time and lose everyone eventually, I want to— I want as much time with you as possible.” He looks up at him. “Can you spend the night with me tonight?”

Hancock forces himself to breathe and wraps his arms around Apollo. “Yeah— Yeah, I can.”

The next morning, Hancock finds Apollo back to work on his poetry. The poem from the day before cycles back into Hancock’s mind, its meaning sinking in this time.

There isn’t any music and isn’t any song on repeat...


End file.
